My father died twenty-four years ago today. I was twenty-three years old. Really, still just a punk trying to find my way in this world. I'm still lost. My father was a highly-skilled smoker - one of those professionals who inhale the smoke with great proficiency and adoration. He was only forty-nine when he died. He had this uncontrollable smoker's cough that would possess his whole body when it came - he'd choke and cough so violently that strangers would think he was dying right there befo...